


Little Boy Blue And The Man On The Moon

by impossiblesongs



Series: Post-Library River and Confrontational Twelve [2]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Possible One-Sided Attraction, Retcon (Torchwood), spoiler: timey-wimey families are so much bigger on the inside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:38:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3134789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblesongs/pseuds/impossiblesongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“It’s time.”</i> – The Doctor is expected at his son's birth, where unlikely surprises and infinite questions are apparently one in the same. (part of the ‘Post-Library River & Confrontational Twelve’ series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters. This has been a disclaimer.  
> AN: Title from the [(song)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUwjNBjqR-c) by Harry Chaplin. I'm continuing this out of (sort of) popular demand. There has been want for more of 12/River and their timey-wimey family that was introduced in [my Christmas fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2838092) and so here it is. I'm continuing it also because it is **massively fun**. Unfortunately I have no beta, please enjoy what you can, if you can.

The Doctor and Clara were currently being held hostage by some rather miffed Sontorans who’d stuffed them both in a cramped little tower and held them there for hours now. The only exit, which was the way they’d been dragged in, stood blockaded by a very shoddily made wooden door. Pity that the sonic still didn’t do wood.

 

“You know, _this_ ,” accused Clara from where she was currently sat on the dusty, dingy floor, “all of this is your fault!”

 

“Oh, yes.” Snapped the Doctor, stopping his five-step pacing to properly glare at her. “Go and blame the one who can get you out of this mess. Nice, Clara. Really, gold star for you.”

 

“I wouldn’t have to get out of this mess if you hadn’t got me into it,” she pointed out. “I mean, did you honestly have to run your mouth like that? They were being hospitable, not insulting your ship. You’d think someone as clever as you would know the difference.”

 

“You know,” the Doctor laughs, though humorless it is, “I could have just left you back home, on Earth. I really don’t need the extra lip right now, okay. I’m thinking.”

 

“Thinking,” Clara repeats, half-laughing and eyes rounder than he remembers them being, all incredulous-like as they gape at him from inside her skull. “Oh, Doctor,” she shakes her tiny human head tiredly and closes her eyes, her shoulders hunching forward, grown weary. “You really are getting old.”

 

“Shut it!” he points a finger at her, hoping the gesture is enough to silence her self-pitying moaning so he can concentrate. “I’ve almost got it.”

 

Clara chuckles at his assurance, seemingly careless of whatever it is he’s trying to accomplish. Still, quite helpless to it, they both look at each other and a real smile blossoms onto both their faces. Soon, the sound of her laughter bubbles up in the cramped tower. Chuckling like mad people, they are, when suddenly, without expectation, another body joins them in the small area.

 

Their visitor brings a puff of static and the smell of time along with him and the Doctor has to squint at the human-shaped form that’s just appeared before them.

 

“Doctor?” Clara is up and by his side, her hand seeking out, gripping urgently at his wrist.

 

Having come across the lad over a dozen times now, the Doctor’s feels he’s not wrong to feel a bit shown up by the boy’s presence.

 

“You?” the Doctor asks with an air of irritability Clara’s never really heard from him before. It sounds far too comfortable coming from the Doctor’s lips and, dare she say it: _fond_.

 

“I’m sorry, you who?” Clara ponders aloud, though the two men stand staring, seemingly content to keep on ignoring her in order to complete some sort of staring competition.

 

“Hello,” Their surprise visitor greets then, extending a hand and all his attention towards Clara.

 

She’s struck by the pale lightness of his greenish-blue eyes, how they shimmer in his irises, going off on her like live supernovas.

 

“Got yourselves in a bit of a pickle, have you?” this stranger queries.

 

“Nothing I can’t handle!” the Doctor interrupts the unknown visitor, blocking the hand he’s extended to Clara and batting it away. “I’m fine, I’ve got it, no need for you to come bustling in to take the reins.”

 

The stranger’s lips twist slightly at the Doctor’s brash tone. The expression on his face however is overly affectionate, though Clara is at a loss as to how that can be.

 

“I’m sorry,” Clara steps between the Doctor and this mysterious man he so obviously knows. “Clara Oswald,” she introduces, nodding to the Doctor, “and don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know what he’s doing at all.”

 

Their visitor grins unabashedly and a fondness comes to his lively eyes whilst looking upon her. If she’s honest, it’s spooking her entirely.

 

“Yes, _the_ Clara Oswald,” the stranger compliments her, “it’s a pleasure, as always.”

 

Clara raises a brow at that, stuttering, “A-always, you say?”

 

“You leave her be!” The Doctor scolds the younger man, in turn only prompting a bigger, wider smile to appear on this stranger’s face.

 

“Come now, I’m only being nice.” Says the mystery man.

 

The Doctor scoffs. “This is what happens when you have friends like Harkness. You philander about across the universe with no shame. I don’t approve of it,” he scolds, “I hope I’ve at least made that much clear.”

 

“Enough with the talking in circles!” Clara shouts at the pair of them. “For the sake of my sanity, we’re locked in a very ill equipped tower, lacking in the actual space to move and stuff, so unless you’re here to break us out, proper introductions start right now.”

 

Their visitor eyes the Doctor mischievously, clearly gloating in some way or other.

 

“She is the boss,” says the stranger to the Doctor, “or is she not?”

 

The Doctor runs a frustrated hand over his face before taking a deep breath. His eyes land right on Clara the next second and she’s taken aback by the intensity of his gaze, feeling a bit like she’s been looked at by….

 

“Oh, my god!” she gasps, looking at the two of them and making out far too many similarities. Three steps backwards and she’s up against the tower wall, eyes wide and disbelieving.

 

“She’s worked it out, I think.” Says the stranger, pride in his tone.

 

“Well, of course she has!” the Doctor waves a hand in her direction. “Look at the eyes. They’re about to pop out of her skull and deflate all over our shoes.”

 

The stranger looks over at the Doctor and shakes his head, “You are so very rude some days, aren’t you?”

 

The Doctor finally turns fully to the young man, demanding, “Why are you here, Blu?”

 

“Thought you’d never ask, old man.” Replies this Blu fellow. “It’s time.”

 

The Doctor stares until a look of realization crosses his face.

 

“Oh, _jesus_!” the Doctor is then moving quicker than Clara’s ever seen him, sonicing the door like it will help at all.

 

“Ahem,” Blu claims both their attention and makes a show of his wrist, or (more importantly), what is strapped around it.

 

“That’s a vortex manipulator.” Says Clara, recognizing the device quite instantly.

 

“That it is.” Confirms Blu before offering an arm to her. “Hop on?”

 

“Oh, give me that!” The Doctor grumbles, reaching for the item and trying to place it around his own bony wrist. “You get her home safe and meet me when I call. I’m parked out near by the bins.” He gives a glance at Blu, “Shut up!”

 

The young man raises his hands in surrender, “I said nothing!”

 

“You don’t have to!” cries the Doctor with the shake of his head. The clasp on the vortex manipulator is proving to be much too tricky for him. If anything, he looks more and more nervous by the second. “This sodding thing won’t keep on!”

 

“Give it here.”

 

Clara watches as Blu takes over. His movements prove quick and precise until the device is safely secured around the Doctor’s wrist.

 

“There.” Says Blu. “It’s already set to go where you need to be, I did that yesterday so you wouldn’t have to. You’re very welcome. And good luck.”

 

The Doctor simply glares. “Do as you are told, Blu. For once.” He pushes the activation button on the vortex manipulator and is gone before Clara can even begin to have any say in it.

 

Clara stares at the now empty space the Doctor has left behind for few moments before her brain moves on to processing. She’s been stranded with this Blu, or whatever he’s called. Why would the Doctor do that?

 

“You alright?” Blu asks, his question bringing her back to the situation at hand.

 

“Oh, fine.” Replies Clara, finding herself in a proper grumpy mood herself. So much for introductions. “I’ve just literally been dumped while I’m trapped in a tower, no chance of escape. I’m fabulous.”

 

Blu chuckles at her dismay. She tries not to be too annoyed with his flippancy at their situation. If the Doctor left her in his care then he must be trustworthy or reliable in some way, right?

 

“I don’t suppose you have your own sonic screwdriver that does wood?” Clara asked hopefully.

 

Blu shakes his head, “I confess screwdrivers aren’t really my style.” Then, he’s pulling out what looks to be a miniature sonic blaster from his back pocket while his other hand dips into his coat. “I’ll get you out of here, Clara, just, erm…” his hand reveals the explosives he’s kept hidden away in his jacket, “promise not to tell my dad how exactly I’ve manage to do that.” And he smiles, big pearly whites aimed right at her. “Deal?”

 

Clara grins back widely. This captivity is turning out to be so much better than she’d expected. She shoves down all her questions, makes a queue of them for later, and takes the explosive Blu is handing her way. “Oh, you got a deal bucko.” 

 

 

✯  ✯  ✯

 

 

The Doctor materialized in a very white waiting room. Instantly, and perhaps because they were the only two in the room, he spotted Madame Vastra and Jenny. They had been in deep discussion but were now silent, taken surprised by his entrance.

 

“What are you two doing here?!” he demands, his callousness disguising his growing anxiousness.

 

“ _We_ were invited.” Vastra informs him. “And not by you, old friend. Shame, really.”

 

The Doctor ducks his head at that revelation. “Sorry. I’ve been… busy.”

 

“Gallivanting through time, no doubt.” The lizard woman came to stand in front him. “That face of yours did need some trying out, I suppose. Does it suit you better now?”

 

“Can’t complain,” Replies the Doctor, “much.”

 

Vastra seems pleased by his answer. “Wonderful, because your wife needs a good fit at this hour. Are you feeling well equipped to act as such?”

 

The Doctor looks over to Jenny, whom watches on quietly, seemingly unsettled by her wife’s methods of questionnaire. His gaze levels back on Vastra and he replies, sure and without doubt, “I am.”

 

A small twitch appears on Vastra’s lips. “So you are.” She moves aside, “She’s down the corridor, turn left, second door. The nurses say any moment now so unless you want to miss it, I suggest you go now.”

 

The Doctor nods. “See you when I see you, then.”

 

“Indeed.” Says Vastra. “And Doctor,” she calls, just as he’s about to turn left, “congratulations.”

 

 

✯  ✯  ✯

 

 

Clara watches Blu pilot the Tardis with as much ease as he showed getting them out of Sontoran holdings. He really is a marvel, this one. They’d slipped out the front door in no time like they’d owned the place.

 

The questions she’s had queueing up, well, now is definitely the time for them.

 

She takes another peek at him, speculating on his mood before carrying on, “So… you’re his son, right? The Doctor’s son? I’m not just having a massive space-age breakdown and thinking this stuff up am I?”

 

Blu grins and confirms her question with a firm nod of his head. “Oh, I’m his alright.”

 

“How?”

 

“Well, when a girl and a boy like each other,” he starts off, shrugging his shoulders in an impossibly innocent gesture, and Clara cuts him off.

 

“Okay, stop right there,” she laughs, “I don’t need that talk, heard it ages ago, and I certainly don’t want to hear it when it’s about the Doctor, so zip.”

 

“So bossy.” Mutters Blu. “He does love being told what to do, my dad. Pretends he’s the one in charge but really, how would he get anything done all by himself? He’s the mouthpiece, the brains, but he needs able hands to get what he wants. Always has. Did he tell you of that time he blew up the universe?”

 

Clara shakes her head.

 

“Course not. Bad for his rep. He can be so careless sometimes. Oh, perhaps careless isn’t the right word….”

 

Watching him, Clara can see he’s much older than he looks. Much like the Doctor. Such enigmas she comes across. She can’t help love this life in time and space all the more. It’s unbearable, unthinkable even, the mere idea of ever giving it up.

 

“So, guess I’m going home then?”

 

Blu turns his eyes on her and she instantly feels like shrinking back and away from the intensity of his attentions. “Home? Now?”

 

“The Doctor did say to take me home.” Says Clara, matter-of-fact. “Didn’t he?”

 

Blu quirks a brow at that, “And you always do what he says, do you?”

 

Clara grins, joining in the space right beside the Doctor’s son. “Okay, point taken. What do you have in mind?”

 

“I fancied a trip to the hospital nursery.” Blu pulls on a lever, jolting the Tardis into motion. “I’m a very cute baby.”

 

“Isn’t there some kind of rule against that? Paradoxes or whatnot?”

 

Blu waves those rules away, explaining, “Semantics, really. I know what I’m doing. Besides, we’ve got a lovely head start. Hasn’t anyone told you, bossy lady?” he hits the blue stabilizers. “This is a time machine.”

 

And Clara laughs and laughs.

 

 

✯  ✯  ✯

 

 

When the Doctor walks into the birthing room, he’s in for quite a shock. Blu is sitting beside his mother and River is gripping his hand with such a force that there is no way such a hold can be pleasant.

 

“What the – how are you – what are you doing here?!” he explodes at his very-much-in-trouble (by the looks of it) family.

 

“Hello to you, too.” Blu mutters through gritted teeth.

 

“I just saw you!” the Doctor accuses. “Out there, where you _should_ be! If you’re about to be born, what are you doing here?!”

 

River lets out a growl-like cry, silencing the Doctor’s raging and bringing his attention back to her.

 

“It’s not Blu, you idiot!” she shouts, a piercing wail escaping after her words.

 

Slowly, it comes together in his big, thick skull.   _Not Blu… not…Blu… OH._ The Doctor hastens in his way to make it to his wife’s other side, the one Blu is not occupying.

 

“Sorry, dear.” He apologizes, kissing her brow quickly, “I’m a bit slow this go around, forgive me.”

 

His wife’s emerald eyes catch his and he sees an endless amount of forgiveness there, but today is not any other day, and River squeezes his offered hand as merciless as he assumes she’s doing to Blu’s own hand. River cries out again, the sound so full of anguish that the Doctor forgets his own mistreated hand as he tries to think of anything at all that will provide some sort of comfort.

 

A flock of nurses start appearing all around the room but the Doctor pays no attention to them. Instead, he leans in close to River’s ear, and starts speaking. Hushed nothings in Gallifreyan that only she will understand. Her lips curl into a smile, calmed for an instant by his soothing murmured words, but then the contractions start.

 

 

✯  ✯  ✯

 

 

Clara waits as Blu sticks his head out of the Tardis first. He shuts the doors upon returning and turns to address her in such a serious manner that for a second there she’s not sure she’s looking at the same person.

 

“Now, we can only look upon this moment without disrupting it, are we clear?”

 

Clara nods her assent and Blu smiles. He holds his hand out to her and she can’t help but see the Doctor in such a startling contrast, only there’s not enough in there. There’s something else, someone else, and the merging of the two is utterly glorious.

 

Clara takes Blu’s hand and leads her out into a corridor. They are on the other side of the hospital nursery, and through the glass she can see someone is inside, holding a baby.

 

Inch by inch they get closer, Blu tugging her at every step, until she starts to recognize this person they are sneaking up on. Dark hair, slender. She’s seen this form once before. She stops abruptly, stopping Blu along with her.

 

“What’s the matter?” he asks, voice so quiet and gentle.

 

“That’s…,” and she nods to the glass, licking her lips, “that’s me.”

 

“You see now why we mustn’t disrupt?” He doesn’t seem as bothered by this as she feels. “Clara? Clara, it’s fine. You are fine. That is you, and you’re holding me.”

 

Clara looks up at him. The dark shade of his hair only bring out his too-lively eyes. “Why?”

 

“Because you’re part of the family.” He answers, as if it’s all so simple.

 

She feels tears want to emerge and feels stupid for it. “How?”

 

Blu smiles kindly and his eyes dart away, off to the girl behind the glass. Her, admittedly.

 

“Spoilers.” He answers softly.

 

The word knocks the breath right out of her.

 

 

✯  ✯  ✯

 

 

He has a son, a second son – to be clear. And a daughter. River gave birth to fraternal twins.

 

According to River and Blu, at an actual family meeting he _was_ in attendance, it had been decided long ago to name the children after Amy and Rory, only at the hour it seems a bit too much. Even now, after all this time.

 

Blu suggests his grandparent’s middle names, and yes, looking down at his two newborns, the Doctor find that those names fit better than anything in the world. Arthur and Jessica Williams.

 

“We’re Williams’ now.” River explains to him, after, while she cradles tiny Arthur securely in her arms.

 

“I liked Song.” The Doctor grumbles, holding his wee Jessica in his own sinewy arms.

 

“I couldn’t very well keep it, after everything.” River confesses, and he knows she's referring to Manhattan, the Library, all of it that came before this. “And I am a Williams.”

 

“You always were, dear.” He assures River.

 

“We.” She corrects.

 

The Doctor’s eyes trail from his daughter to his son, and he thinks of Blu and how, now, so far, he’s the father of three, and a grandfather to one – he can’t very well forget Susan, after all. This family of his is turning out to be so much bigger on the inside. The Doctor smiles indulgently, but happily.

 

“Aye,” he allows, shifting the little girl in his arms, _his_ little girl, to a more comfortable position. “We.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“First and last, my love.” River says, then shrugs. “He has a couple of them himself. That’s all I can say on the matter, I’m afraid.”_ – Blu does as he’s told (sort of). The Doctor questions River and vice versa. Family stuff ensues. (part of the ‘Post-Library River  & Confrontational Twelve’ series)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters. This has been a disclaimer.  
> AN: **WARNINGS** , for retcon drug useage in this chapter. If that is not your cup of tea, this was your warning. (for more info on retcon, see: [this page](http://tardis.wikia.com/wiki/Retcon)) Timey-wimey is sometimes very hard to portray, forgive me if you get lost on it a bit.

Clara stares blankly at the Doctor’s son, unsure of what exactly he’s playing at. Why would Blu bring her here? To a nursery where she – some other version her, somewhere in time – is holding an infant version of him.

 

Blu sighs dejectedly, clearly picking up on her upset. He leans sideways and sags against the wall that hides them away. Those magnetic eyes of his trail off to the other Clara, the one who is rocking infant-him back and forth in her arms.

 

“I suppose a drink would be appreciated now?” he offers. Clara nods.

 

They head back to the Tardis as separate beings. Clara with her arms wrapped around herself, as if she’s keeping herself from unhinging entirely, and Blu with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. Neither makes an effort to speak to the other again nor does one of them reach for the other’s hand.

 

 

✯✯✯

 

 

When the nurses come by to take little Arthur and Jessica off for some standardized testing, River orders Blu to go on after the nurses.

 

“Just… just in case,” is his wife’s excuse, her voice gone a quieter, shaky tremor of a thing really. She is still not completely trustworthy that those she loves will be safe. He supposes, after all this time, he should have expected as such.

 

“So where did you come from?” River asks of the Doctor tiredly, once Blu and the nurses are out of sight and they are left alone.

 

The Doctor stares at his wife and can come up with no other answer for her than: “Spoilers.”

 

As tired as she is, River laughs and pushes back at her hair. Wild as it is, it looks marvelous on her.

 

“Oh, dear. You would say that,” she smiles kindly, “and you should, if only you weren’t so early off.” River watches him patiently and when he doesn’t retort she goes on, “You’re not the one in need of keeping things secret. Not this far along, with this face of yours still so young.”

 

She reaches out and her palm cups his cheek tenderly. He leans into it, listening to her and her words – which is easier to do with this face, for some reason or other.

 

“You’ve got so much yet to live through,” River sighs contently, sinking further into the pillows of her hospital bed, “which means everything falls on my shoulders once again.”

 

He feels a pang at that. “I’m sorry to hear that, dear.”

 

“Don’t be, my love.” River says wholeheartedly. “We’re here, like this, as we always have been. Taking turns, it’s our thing. We carry each other through the highs and the lows, the both of us. Neither of us are alone, or if we are it is not for long. Now, tell me,” she presses, voice gentle and patient, “ _where_ are you?”

 

The Doctor chews on his thin lips for a second or two, deliberating whether his side was worth giving up so easily. But then again, River did just give him two more (by the looks of it) fully Time Lord children.

 

“It’s all rather embarrassing.” The Doctor admits, his hand running through the puffy grey hair on his head. “Blu found me in a tower. A horrible, tiny little thing. They’d put me behind a wooden door, River!” he shouts, properly affronted, then mutters, “Sontorans are very sensitive creatures nowadays.”

 

At the word _Sontorans_ , River’s head snaps up at him and she’s giving at him that look. The one she gives him whenever the universe is about to implode, or something equally as troubling.

 

River swallows, eyes darting every which way until they land on the vortex manipulator strapped around his wrist.

 

“I’m assuming your companion was with you, yes?” she asks slowly, calmly, though everything about her screams the opposite.

 

The Doctor narrows his eyes at her, straightening in his seat. “Yeah? Problem?”

 

His wife shuts her eyes, tightly. Regretful, even. Then there’s that fierce, protective-mommy face he’s seen once and again on Amelia Pond’s own face.

 

“Clara,” names River. “Clara Oswald, is it?”

 

“River, what’s wrong?” the Doctor demands, standing. “What is it?”

 

River opens her eyes, looking positively heartbroken.

 

“Blu,” She whispers tearfully. “His life is playing out, just like our own did.”

 

“Back to front.” The Doctor had suspected, but he never dared dream it to be true. “But, Clara?”

 

“First and last, my love.” River says, then shrugs.

 

“Explain.” He demands of her. “Now.”

 

“He has a couple of them himself. That’s all I can say on the matter, I’m afraid.” And she reaches out to grab at his hand, keeping him from running off and doing something completely irresponsible – like going to stop it or something.

 

“It has to be lived.” She tells him, a tear or two falling down her cheek. “You know that, as well as I.”

 

With his hearts in his throat, he sits back down, hand tightening its hold on River’s own.

 

 

✯✯✯

 

 

“It makes for a lovely sight, does it not?” the Doctor’s son asks, swirling the liquid in his glass.

 

They’ve made it to some smarmy bar on some planet she can’t even pretend she remembers the name of. Clara nods her head, enraptured at the swirls of color now bursting from shade to shade inside the drink he hands over to her. She downs it in one go. Grateful for it, after all she’s seen today.

 

“It’s something I got off my friend, Jack.” Blu retells, offhanded in his delivery. “It’s a form of something called retcon, actually.” He explains, taking a drink from his own glass. “It’s an amnesia pill.”

 

Clara feels herself slouch further into her own seat, knowing perhaps she should feel something closer to panic from what he’s telling her but instead she feels fuzzy and nice and warm.

 

“It’s very potent. One sip is all you need, really. I mixed it myself, this particular formula. Mum has her hallucinogenic lipstick, I have this.” Blu moves his arm out and around to get a hold of her, steady her, before she topples out of her chair from the starting effect of drowsiness the drug induces in the beginning.

 

“It’s a very effective model.” He goes on with it, removing his hold on her when she’s well and properly sat and in no danger of falling again. “You won’t remember this day, Clara, or me, I can promise you that, but it does take a while to kick in so you might as well ask what you want while you can.”

 

She blinks once, twice, remembers, and repeats, “As always.”

 

His face goes blank, “Pardon?”

 

“That’s what you said,” she recalls, scowling at the memory of captivity. “When we met, in that godforsaken tower. You said that.” Her big brown eyes bore into his. “Why?”

 

“You never miss anything, do you?” He looks pleased for a second before his brow furrows and his lips turns downward in a frown. For a moment there, it looks to her like he’s blinking back at tears.

 

“The thing is, I’ve not seen you in a very long time.” He confesses. “I miss you, see, and unlike my father I am very openly selfish. When I act on things it’s quite clear why I act upon them. I’ve never found any sense in hiding my motives. He doesn’t know that yet, of course. Early days for him, for the both of you, but since you won’t remember,” Blu turns to her and takes her face gently in his hands, with great care in his movements.  “You were my first love, Clara, and – selfishly – I’ve only ever wished to be your last.”

 

Clara looks into his eyes, past and right through to the heart of him. She finds herself fearful of what she sees there. Longing, heartbreak. She sees too much of what she feels for someone else.

 

“What do you mean last?” she asks.

 

“Dad brought you home to meet the family when I was young, a while after the second Christmas he spent with us. You’d just lost someone important in your life.” Blu squints, looking like he’s trying to remember something far off and in the distance. Something hazy with fog, with time that’s too long gone by.

 

“You’d take five minutes to yourself,” he recalls, “every single day, and when I’d asked, you said it was for him. That every single day, five minutes of your life belonged to him.”

 

Clara feels tears well behind her eyelids, because she knows who Blu is referring to. Danny. Danny Pink.

 

“You were clever and nearly an equal to dad in everything that you did, but you were human and more than slightly impossible, and I… well, it happened early on for me.” Blu’s grin takes a turn for bashful now. It’s such an odd sight to cross his face and she’s transfixed by it. He chuckles, low and throaty. “You, however, needed a bit of convincing.”

 

“Did you?” blurs Clara, studying every aspect of this man, knowing she should feel shame for doing so but she doesn’t. Right now she just wants to know. She wants to know everything. “Did you convince me?”

 

Blu leans forward, very carefully, and just as she thinks he’s going to kiss her, he places the most innocent of kisses at the top of her head.

 

Clara exhales, annoyed a bit by how anticlimactic _that_ had proven to be.

 

“Time for you to go home, earthling.” Whispers Blu, “Time to forget.”

 

“But I don’t want to forget!” argues Clara. That panic she was probably supposed to be feeling since the beginning of it all? It starts to kick in now. “How dare you?” she shoves him away and stands, or tries to. “It’s not up to you to make a choice as to whether I can or can’t know things!”

 

Blu huffs out a laugh, the sound more than slightly despairing to her ears. “Clara Oswald, as if I could ever do any of this without your knowing.”

 

“But you’re telling me I forget all of this!” She shouts, admittedly a bit too loudly. “Stop talking in circles, yeah?”

 

“You’re a very impossible girl.” Promises Blu, “I can assure you that I don’t hear the end of it when you do remember, but that won’t be for a long time now in your future.”

 

Clara shakes her head, “I don’t like it. _Any_ of it, are you hearing me?”

 

“No one in their right minds would.” He points out. “Sadly, not one of our kind has been in their right minds for long.”

 

“Oh,” Clara laughs cynically, “so now I’m one of you?”

 

“You hopped in a magic box with a madman and disregarded your plain life for the wonders of the universe,” The makings of a grin breaks out across Blu’s face. “And you haven’t looked back since. Of course you’re one of us.”

 

Clara tries to be cross with him, she should be, but there’s something about that face that makes it a fools goal to even try to be. Of course, the situation, on the other hand – that, she is positively livid with. She will make it a point one day, if Blu is indeed telling the truth, and she promises herself that she will throttle him for it.

 

“I should report you to your parents, but fine.” She exhales, the fight in her being saved for another day. “How long until this amnesia thingy kicks in then?”

 

“Five minutes ago.”

 

“But then, why….”

 

“I’ve told you already, only you don’t listen.” Blu reaches out and pats her hand. “You are more than simply impossible, Clara Oswald.”

 

 

 

✯✯✯

 

 

Blu materializes in the backyard of his childhood home, on a quiet, darkened night. It’s far along enough for the comfort he needs right now. Sure enough, a light turns on in one of the second story windows and Blu wanders over to the swing set he spent many years trying to reach the skies on.

 

His parents come out from the back door, one after the other, shadowy blotches until they are near enough to see properly.

 

“Blu?” his father asks, apprehensive of the sight in front of him.

 

“Darling,” his mother reaches out a hesitant hand and lays it on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

 

“Not really,” Blu answers, sniffing. “No.”

 

“I’ll make some tea.” The Doctor says, but Blu shakes his head.

 

“Can Mum make it? I need…” Blu takes a deep breath, “I saw Clara.”

 

“Oh, Blu,” his mother frets.

 

“I see,” says the Doctor, gravely. “River,” he says to his wife, “tea, please.”

 

River nods, giving Blu’s hand a squeeze before heading back to the house. The Doctor and Blu watch her retreating form until she disappears inside.

 

“Are Art and Jessie upstairs sleeping?” Blu wonders.

 

The Doctor’s gray hair catches an odd glow as he moves beneath the moonlight, closer to his son.  

 

“Don’t divert, Blu.” He says. “Not now. Tell me what happened.”

 

Blu smiles, the sight of it grim, even in the darkness of night.

 

“Her first.” He explains, “My last. I knew it would come, I just didn’t expect it to be so… well, you would know, wouldn’t you?”

 

The Doctor shuts his eyes, pained by the words coming from his son’s mouth.

 

“How long ago was it for you?” Blu asks his father. “The real last hurrah, with her?”

 

The Doctor clears his throat, and answers, “Your brother and sister haven’t lived here for a few years now. All of you crazy kids pop in for tea, bringing some sort of deviant behavior along with you. Most of them go by the name of Jack Harkness. That’s where we’re at now, me and your mum. Having Jack over for tea, and I have to sit there while he flirts with your mum, and she giggles like wee school girl.” The Doctor scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s absolutely dreadful.”

 

While that does bring a smirk to Blu’s face, he picks up on his dad’s meaning all the same. _Too long_ , he means to say, _more than ages ago._

 

“Susan dropped by though,” the Doctor informs Blu, squinting at his son to better catch his reaction.

 

“With her mum?”

 

“Course!” the Doctor replies, “Little girls can’t travel up and around all of time and space by themselves, what’s wrong with you?”

 

Blu snorts, “So much is wrong with me right now that I've numbed to the point of not feeling one bit of it.”

 

The Doctor sighs, grumbling a bit before opening his arms. “Come on, then.” He says. “Hide your face. Do it, before I change my mind.”

 

His past becoming part of his present has left him feeling nothing but tired and hurting, so Blu sinks into his dad’s offered arms willingly.

 

The Doctor strokes at his son’s dark brown hair with a steady hand like he did when Blu was still no more than a wean and needed comforting that only a parent can offer, muttering _I’m sorry_ , again and again, unconditionally and seemingly without an end.

 

The apologies falls onto Blu with so much meaning that even though it’s the dead of night, with his past nipping at his heels, he’s glad he has this place he can come to. That there is a place he knows will always be his home and for certain points in time, in a rather lengthy amount, he’ll find it, there, just waiting for him. A place where his father and mother reside, sometimes together, to seek whenever and wherever he is in his own timeline. A place of safety and security, being cradled in the arms of parents who loved him and would never stop loving him.

 

He peeks at the house from over his father’s shoulder and he remembers, remembers when his dad brought home a clever, impossible human for their third Christmas together as a family. Remembers falling in love with her quite instantly and losing her in quite an identical manner.

 

There is so much Blu has to look forward to, so much yet to live. He has a daughter and a wife out there, somewhere, but the pain of past-to-present ghosts, of first loves, and of memories once made/already lived are picking at him, giving him the mightiest of urges to crumble beneath their wake.

**Author's Note:**

> And that concludes the first work of the new year. I'm quite proud of it. Here's hoping to many more of this series and the continuity of others.


End file.
